


Overcast

by Antarc



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Harrington, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Harringrove Week of Love 2021, M/M, Masturbation, Overstimulation, POV Steve Harrington, Top Billy Hargrove, could technically count as sex pollen..?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29381082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarc/pseuds/Antarc
Summary: After pulling an all-nighter, Steve tries his hand at a simple energy booster spell before getting ready for his date with Billy. The spell goes wrong. Billy comes to the rescue.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 14
Kudos: 103
Collections: Harringrove Week of Love





	Overcast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CeruleanHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanHeart/gifts).



> For the Harringrove Week of Love Day 2 prompt "Overstimulation" and the amazingly talented V💙 Thank you so so much for this trade!!

It’s funny for exactly the first two hours. Of course Steve’s pulled all-nighters before. He’s kind of an idiot like that. And he’s made spontaneous decisions to fuck around with basic spells when he’s sleep deprived more often than is safe, he’ll freely admit that, too. 

So what? Every witch gets a little reckless sometimes! It’s worked out well for him so far.

And that’s why he decides at nine AM, right as he notices the first rays of sunlight catching the crystal decorations in his windows, that he’ll use an energy booster to keep himself going through the day. Even if he hasn’t done this specific spell very often yet. The crystals hanging from shiny threads and broken necklaces in his windows don’t do anything, by the way, they’re just pretty decorations that give his tiny apartment a more witch-y atmosphere. Well, and he likes shiny stuff. ‘Like a magpie,’ Robin likes to say, as if she isn’t any better with her metal ornaments. 

Anyways, it’s those damn shiny, sparkling crystals and the beautiful play of refracted sunlight against the windowsill that he blames for messing up. 

That, and the lack of sleep. 

He hums along to the morning radio as he prepares an arrangement of sigils on his wooden kitchen table. It’s a big, solid wood monstrosity that has been host to lively dinners and intricate spell work alike. He figures even at his more sleep deprived, he’s less likely to mess up a simple arrangement than if he had to painstakingly measure out ingredients for a potion.  
He’s never been good at chemistry anyways. 

In hindsight, he probably messed up a sigil. Maybe two. Look, ultimately he places small bowls with yogurt and honey, a banana, strawberries and raspberries on top of his hastily clobbered together sigil work for a spell meant to infuse the ingredients with ‘invigorating energy’. And then he forgets to double check his spelling. Just enthusiastically activates it with a pulse of power that should last him through the day and makes himself a smoothie feeling mighty proud of himself. 

About a third of the way through his breakfast smoothie a tingling races over his skin that ends in a languorous shiver at the base of his spine. It doesn’t register as anything but his body doing the usual weird array of sensations when he’s sleep deprived. 

He starts a load of laundry and takes another third off his smoothie while he considers what he wants to wear for his date with Billy later today. On the radio, Dancing Queen starts playing and the beat seems to pulse through his veins. It makes him want to move. So he does. 

Naked feet slide over the soft living room carpet as he twirls and spins until he’s dizzy and flushed and thirstily downs the rest of his smoothie. He’s not exactly feeling more awake, but at least more energized by now, slightly covered in sweat and feeling flushed. 

Smoothie glass deposited in the kitchen sink, he decides to take a shower. Slips right out of his shirt and boxers when he arrives at the bathroom, uncaring about the mess for now. He wants to take his time getting dressed and primped before Billy drops by.

The first hit of warm water pin-pricks, like he’s more sensitive to the roll of water over his skin. He has to turn it down from his usual preferred pressure to something more soothing. The prickles decrease to a pleasant tickle over his face, down his neck and chest. He turns, shudders at the delightful feeling of water running over his scalp, down his back and his legs. His dick gives an interested twitch. It almost feels like it’s pushing into his hand when he grabs himself and a sudden shock of pleasure pools in his belly and into his dick. 

“Oh fuck.” He moans at the pressure of his hand, enjoying the uneven drag of wet skin as he starts jerking off. Billy’s lips come to his mind. Wrapped around his dick, sucking on his nipples. His tongue slipping out and over his skin, over the head and down down down, pressed slick and perfect into his hole. Suddenly, all his nerve endings seem to alight. A wave of dizziness washes over him and he has to lean forward to brace himself against cold tile.

Steve breathes open-mouthed groans against the wall in front of him. Leans his forehead against it, blessedly cold against his heated skin. Gets lost in fantasizing about Billy’s body against him, pressing his weight into him till he’s flattened to the wall and helpless to Billy’s hands on his hips. His cock working him open, pushing inside over and over.

When he comes in hard spurts against the shower wall, he can barely keep his knees from buckling. All his focus is on the pulses of his dick in his hand, come dripping over his fingers and easing the movement of his hand into smooth strokes.

He can’t stop. 

That’s the first time it registers in his sleep-deprived brain that something isn’t right. Because instead of feeling relief and the expected bone-deep satisfaction of a hard orgasm, it’s like he’s only riled himself up even more. Made his skin feel even more overheated and sensitive, until he has to lean away from the stream of water. He turns, leans his back against the wall to him steady while he pushes his hips up and watches in fevered fascination as his still hard, flushed dick passes through his grip.

He bites into his lip to hold back the desperate whine trying to escape his throat as he feels another wave of pleasure roll through him. Feels more heat pool in his belly, as if he didn’t literally just come his brains out.  
The second orgsam hits even harder, but it also hurts a bit, coming so quickly after the first. Steve’s toes curl at the mix of temporary bliss and deepening ache in his balls and dick. And he’s still hard. _Fuck_.

Dread floods him. This isn’t his usual ‘got too turned on thinking about his boyfriend to think clearly’ state. Before he can let panic overtake him, though, he forces himself to take deep breaths. He reaches for his shampoo and shower gel and forces himself to finish cleaning up without so much as brushing his dick.  
It’s likely he’s fucked up the spell. Probably switched up a sigil- fuck, he can’t even think properly, let alone use enough of his brain to figure out what went wrong. He huffs out a laugh as he shampoos his hair and looks down at his poor, angry red dick poking up and demanding attention.

It’s not impossible to ignore, but it sure is hard. Hah.

Throughout forcing his usual morning routine- blow-drying his hair into place, getting dressed, trying to read a paragraph in his textbook- he constantly gets thrown off-kilter by the persistent pulse of his erection. The outfit he’d originally planned on wearing ends up feeling too rough and tight on his skin and within moments makes him so twitchy, he has to change into an airy, white button-down shirt that might have once been a blouse he stole from his mom. 

It’s the pants that prove the real problem. Everything is too tight, too restrictive, underwear is pretty much impossible to bear and after half an hour of emptying the contents of his closet onto his bedroom floor, he finally slips into a pair of black harem pants. They do nothing to hide his hardon, but at least they don’t hurt either.

That’s just hour one and two, though. By hour three, the shirt clings to his shoulders and back where it’s getting soaked in sweat, unbuttoned all the way to let his flushed chest cool down. There’s a growing, consistently distracting wet spot at the front of his pants, because no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, his dick won’t. stop. leaking. It aches and pulses with his heartbeat until finally he caves around hour four and takes out a bottle of lube, throws himself onto his bed and tugs his waistband just far enough down to let his poor dick spring free. It slaps against his belly, sensitive and red and the first contact with his lube-coated hand is almost too much to handle.  
He sips shaky gulps of air.

It doesn’t help. Somewhere around hour five, when he finally gets his come-crusted hand unstuck, he finally gets up again on shaking, unsteady legs. His belly and chest are covered in come and he can’t bring himself to care anymore. In the kitchen, he carefully washes his hands. Then he defeatedly washes the glass he drank the smoothie from and mentally says good-bye to any chance of making today’s date work as he guzzles down one glass of water after another.

Of course Billy has to choose that exact low moment to call. He always does on his half days when he’s finished up at the shop and Steve eyes the distance he has to walk to his landline with trepidation. He sighs. Tries to keep his pained whimpers to a minimum as he fights against the urge to so much as brush against his dick.

“Hey Billy,” he says, somewhat out of breath when he picks up. “You’re done with work?”

“Hey there yourself.” And holy fuck, Billy’s voice right in his ear is pure torture. Smooth and warm, clearly in a good mood. Despite the aching sting in his belly and thigh muscles and the suffering his dick and balls are in, there’s a pleased shiver running through his limbs just listening to Billy talk. “Yup, almost finished packing up this delivery we got last-minute and then I’m coming over. Want me to pick up takeout? Or go to that Greek place you’ve been drooling over all week?”

“Ah, well.” Steve hesitates. He _really_ was looking forward to this date. “I, uh. Kinda messed something up.”

“Oh babe, that’s okay. I’m sure I can help, even if it’s just by bringing you food.”

A nervous laugh bubbles up, making Steve feel weirdly unhinged. He’s so goddamn tired. And he just wants Billy to be there, soothe the aches in his muscles and hold him tight until the spell has run its course. “No, you see. I _really_ messed up this energy boost spell.”

The other end of the line goes a little staticy with the deep sigh Billy huffs into the receiver. “What’s going on?”

“Well. Technically it worked, since I can’t sleep like this. Uhm. I’m really turned on and,” he stops, looks down. Looks up towards the ceiling in shame. “Mydickwon’tgosoft,” he rushes out.

There’s a pregnant pause. A noise like Billy is choking on something. “Come again?”

Embarrassment makes way to frustration, worming its way into Steve’s voice. “My fucking dick has been hard for hours, Billy. I can’t stop touching myself, but it fucking _hurts._ ” There’s a whine at the end of that sentence, but it’s drowned out by Billy bursting into laughter. Steve snaps his mouth shut and waits in silent fury for his stupid boyfriend to calm down.

“So you’re telling me,” Billy audibly sucks in a breath, “that you accidentally gave yourself magical viagra?”

“I guess.” Steve sniffs. Tries not to start tearing up, even though he feels like he’s reached the end of his rope.

Billy is quick to jump in. “Oh no no no, baby. No crying. I’m coming over as soon as I can. Gonna pick up some Mexican and then we’re gonna make you real comfortable and get this figured out.”

“It hurts, Billy,” he whines. “Just want you here with me.” He feels like an idiot. For thinking he could pull off the spell. For being so goddamn needy for Billy. The ball of shame in his chest gets tight and hot and makes him curl in on himself.

“Steve.” All humor has vanished from Billy’s voice. At least he doesn’t sound mad. “I know. It’s okay,” he soothes. “Give me an hour tops and I’ll be at your door. Okay?”

He noisily sniffs again. Nods, even though Billy can’t see the movement. “Okay.”

After they’ve hung up, Steve makes himself a cup of tea. It’s barely afternoon, but he feels a bone-deep exhaustion and a jittery weakness in his limbs when he sinks onto the sofa, legs spread wide, clutching his warm cup. Outside, he dazedly watches the sky fill up with clouds until the last bit of sunshine playing in the crystals in his windows has faded and everything is grey and muted. He, too, feels himself slip into a groggy stupor. 

When his front door opens, it doesn’t quite feel real. He’s given up on propriety, tugged down his pants again and tries to muster up the willpower to snatch his hand away from the tip, where his thumb has been swiping through the steady drool of precome. He can feel his hair cling in a sweaty mess to his scalp and for a moment mourns the honestly _amazing_ look he’d pulled off in the morning. Now, he just feels like a sweaty, come crusted mess.

“Hey there.” Suddenly, Billy stands in front of him, dropping a plastic bag smelling of takeout on the coffee table, nose and cheeks a little rosy from the cold. Steve watches him take off his coat and boots from half-lidded eyes. His hand is still glued to his dick. “Fuck, you look wrecked, baby.” 

When he leans down, his body heat hovers over Steve’s exposed chest and belly, making him break out into goosebumps before they even make contact. He craves Billy’s skin against his. “Come here,” he demands, no longer able to filter out the petulant whine in his voice.

“Yeah yeah,” it’s reassuring how fond and calm Billy sounds. Like even Steve’s own pain filled panic can’t throw him off. With practiced ease, Billy’s arms slip underneath his loose body, lift him up long enough to slip onto the sofa, spread over its length and deposit Steve in his lap. It’s an impressive feat of strength and Steve’s dick gives an agonizing jerk in response that makes him writhe in Billy’s hold. Billy shushes him. He’s a warm, solid wall of muscle against Steve and with his arms wrapped around him, he’s becoming grounded in his own thoughts again.

“There you are.” Billy softly kisses his temple. Runs his hands over Steve’s arms and down to his own hands. Interlaces their fingers and tugs them against Steve’s chest where he holds him in place. “Alright. I called up Robin after we talked.” Steve groans. Billy shakes him a little in admonishment. “Yes, I know. But I figure a little bit of teasing from her isn’t gonna be as bad as me getting all worried about what to do with you. So she looked up how you could’ve messed up that spell of yours and came to the conclusion that since the spell is meant to last you through the day, it’s gonna be over by night time at the latest.”  
Another groan comes out of Steve’s mouth.  
“I know, that’s still a couple hours away. But since it was originally an energy booster, maybe we can push it along by exerting more energy than you’d usually need to stay awake till the end of the day.”

The realization hits Steve molasses-slow. It’s like his brain connects the dots in slow motion. His head sluggishly turns so he can look Billy in the eyes. “You mean…?”

Billy nods. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck _fuck_.

Of course Billy isn’t going to force him. So Steve has the choice: Wait until evening in constant, turned on agony in hopes that the spell runs its course. Or put in a full-on sex workout in hopes that the spell runs out of steam sooner. He buries his face against Billy’s neck and breathes in the remnants of his aftershave and perfume, mixed with a hint of sweat.

“I wanna get cleaned up first,” he finally decides. It’s not ideal- but what about this situation is, anyways. And he’d rather do this with a modicum of dignity left. Another kiss lands in his hair.

“Okay. Need me to help?”

Steve wants to say no. Wishes he could pretend he’s still able to walk, but by this point it’s preposterous to claim he can. So he quietly says “Yes” and allows Billy to lift him up and carry him back into the bathroom, where they almost stumble over his mess of clothes.  
Billy huffs a laugh into his ear.

He lets Steve’s miserable body slide onto the toilet seat and gently undresses them both. In the shower, he holds Steve against him with one arm while he carefully washes him and just as carefully towels him dry. Steve can’t decide if he wants to rub his entire body against Billy’s like a big cat or shy away even from his most gentle touches when every point of contact sends another rush of arousal through his body.

Even the sheets of Steve’s bed feel like Too Much when Billy finally lowers them down at a glacial pace, making them rest on their sides. The bottle of lube lies in front of Steve’s face like a cruel reminder of what he’s gotten himself into.  
But Billy’s hand settles on his side, warm and familiar, and he figures if there’s anyone he’d want to be around while he’s suffering through a massive fuckup, it’s him. He makes the conscious effort to relax his muscles, lift his leg to give better access to his hole and then hands the bottle of lube over his shoulder.

“I don’t think I can handle anything touching my dick right now,” he sheepishly admits. “Would you- ?”

Of course, Billy knows. He’d be blind not to have seen the state Steve’s dick is in, red and chafed and barely able to handle so much as a breeze touching it. A kiss lands on Steve’s neck and he winds his hand into the sheets underneath him as he listens to Billy lube up his hand. He’s too exhausted to tense up when one finger circles his rim, just lets the sensation wash over him and enjoys feeling Billy’s breath tickling his hair. A finger breaches his hole, pushes in slow and steady and then pulls back just as carefully.  
It’s like he’s being treated like he’s precious and he kind of wants to cry a little.

Billy’s fingers are thick and perfect inside him. He works up to two easily enough, tugging at his rim, stretches and spreads them meticulously and the best part is that it doesn’t hurt. Sure, there’s the usual ache as Steve’s insides adjust to the intrusion, but it’s a welcome change to the building agony of these past hours.  
Despite his dick still feeling pretty awful, there’s shots of pleasure from deep inside that make things a lot more bearable. And then Billy starts up gently kissing whatever skin he can reach from behind him. Little points of faint contact on Steve’s overheated shoulders and the back of his neck are a welcome distraction from the ache between his legs. 

“This okay?” Billy’s lips brush his ear as he speaks, tender note in his voice making Steve’s heart flutter.

He hums in agreement. “Feels good.”

Steve gets lost in the comfort of being held and handled with care. Fully sinks into a hazy, soothed state where all that matters is letting Billy open him up. When he adds a third finger, he moves his hips to meet them, bears down to take them in more easily.

There’s the familiar sound of Billy rummaging in Steve’s bedside table for a condom. The sound of plastic wrapper crinkling and Billy’s silent grunt as he rolls on the condom. And then he’s back at Steve’s hole, this time with the tip of his dick poking at it. Spreading it just enough to feel the pressure of his rim starting to stretch and give way until the head pops inside.

Billy groans into Steve’s ear as he enters him. Air held in Steve’s lungs leaves him in a deep sigh as he adjusts to Billy moving in him with sensual, unrelenting rolls of his hips. No hesitation, just Billy’s arms wrapping around him to hold him in place. A lube-sticky hand starts to wander absentmindedly over his skin.  
He blessedly stays away from Steve’s crotch. Instead, Billy strokes upwards, from Steve’s hips over his belly to his chest where he comes to rest right on his nipple. When he starts to roll the nub between his fingers, it’s like a lightning strike to Steve’s nerves. He moans. Clenches down on Billy’s cock, feels blinded by the heat that has consumed his senses again.

“Welcome back,” Billy laughs. 

Steve rolls his hips into his thrusts and hisses out a desperate “Do that again.”

With a resounding snap, Billy drives into him while he tenderly rolls that nipple between his fingers. Steve tries to muffle his moans by burying his face in the sheets, but it’s a losing battle. He comes with a choked off “Billy” and a throbbing in his insides and dick that is simultaneously making him melt and burning him up alive.

And of course, he’s still hard.

They stop moving for a bit, Billy just petting over his trembling limbs while Steve tries to catch his breath.

“You want us to stop for a bit?”

Steve silently shakes his head. There’s tears seeping into the fabric below him. He doesn’t want to stop, not when he feels so close to being done. Not when it still feels so perfect to have Billy’s careful hands dancing over his body.

“Hey, no hiding.” And despite Steve’s protesting whine, Billy drags his cock out of him. Leaves him feeling empty and stretched open so he can turn Steve onto his back and shove himself between Steve’s legs. He cradles Steve’s face, forces him into meeting his eyes. “I need you to be honest here. We’re stopping the moment you need a break.” Steve nods into Billy’s hold. Grasps at his wrists- not to push him away, just to have something to ground himself.

“I uh,” he starts to say. Startles a little at how raspy his voice sounds. He swallows. “I think I can do one more.”

He can barely get his legs to listen to him and wrap around Billy’s waist, but Billy gets the drill. Pushes back inside and swivels his hips with his brows furrowed in concentration. His feeble attempts to participate are thrown off almost immediately by Billy’s cock brushing over his prostate, making Steve buck and moan into that shred of bliss pulled out of him.  
Billy’s hips slow down to a filthy grind while his hands settle in the hollows of Steve’s knees. He pushes them up so Steve’s all spread out. And still he wants Billy even closer. Wants him to fill the space up between them with his body heat, his smell, the grunts and moans he makes when he’s close. His smile.  


Because fuck, that’s what he always wants. What he _craves_ , every time they’re together. Billy’s attention and affection and that gorgeous, goofy smile of his when he looks at Steve.  
With what little strength he has left, he wraps his arms around Billy’s neck and tugs him down. Brushes over soft lips with his own and gets lost in ocean-blue eyes and the flush on Billy’s cheeks that always makes his freckles stand out. 

He’s so damn tired by the time a final, mellow orgasm hits his system. His toes curl. His dick makes a valiant effort of producing a drop of come. And finally, finally he’s just filled with bone-deep exhaustion.

That’s not what the real treat is, though. It’s whispering Billy’s name into his burning red ear. Holding onto his shoulders as he trembles and comes, kissing Steve’s neck and biting into his skin.

It’s what comes afterwards that stays with him, when Steve whines a “just lemme sleep, geez” in protest of Billy’s insistent hands massaging his tired muscles. It’s getting lovingly bullied into drinking water and eating a burrito, even as he’s half-propped up against Billy’s side.  
It’s shivering from tiredness and exhaustion and getting wrapped in warmth, no questions asked, that makes him so, so grateful for Billy not leaving him alone.  
He falls asleep with an icepack on his crotch and filled with the knowledge that he’s cherished and safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd be super happy about a kudos and comment if you enjoyed this😊💖


End file.
